


pour me out

by omosama



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Omorashi, Pissing in unconventional places, Pre-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21751549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omosama/pseuds/omosama
Summary: Claude should be grateful for the tea time with Byleth, but there's a more pressing issue to attend to, and very little time to deal with it. Especially in the professor's room, nonetheless.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	pour me out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ningyoplug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ningyoplug/gifts).



> didn't give byleth any pronouns, so you can insert whichever one you want, or leave them nonbinary! follow your hearts uvu~

Cup after cup, discomfort only grows. As to what was making Teach so eager to chat and spend this time together was beyond him, but he  _ should  _ be grateful nonetheless. In an average situation, he would be. What was preventing the enthrallment with this event was the escalating pressure building up in his lower stomach. Every time his cup was spotted empty, it was instantly refilled the moment Byleth noticed. By now, the entire teapot must’ve been emptied on him, and him alone. He could’ve sworn that their own cup was only refilled a handful of times. Maybe it’s his own fault for downing the drinks so quickly. He simply didn’t want to be rude, or seem unappreciative. Claude fancied himself a bit of an actor, quite used to playing the role of a friendly, sociable guy, so keeping conversation steady wasn’t an issue. The issue was his body’s desire to become antsy. It started with his foot bouncing beneath the table, and soon it became his whole leg jiggling. Palms becoming sweaty, he folded his hands on the table, index finger tapping against his knuckle. All of this movement happened subconsciously. The urge to relieve himself wasn’t that bad yet, right? It’s what he was led to believe till he found himself cursing the belt that was keeping his pants secured. The golden deer was never the type to sit still, so at least that covered his ground. The bobbing of his leg was only starting to irritate his bladder, nearly full to the brim, so even that wasn’t really helping. It’s not like him to start to lose his cool, but even  _ he  _ could tell it was beginning to read on his face. Not that Byleth seemed like the type to say anything unless they were genuinely concerned. He didn’t think it was that bad. Instead of letting his legs leap, he opted for pressing his thighs together. Oddly enough, any friction he got from moving his legs like that sent shivers down his spine. It was hard to refrain from visibly shaking. Didn’t Byleth have teacher things to do? Like teaching? Why are they spending so much time here? What was initially just a hindrance was quickly becoming painful. It was more like a shooting pain that came and went every now and then. With each wave, he felt his thighs press together further, till they crossed over one another. All he could do was hope that Byleth would finally dismiss him and he could run out. Maybe there was a way to quicken the pace.

“Hey, Teach. You’re pretty talkative today. Pretty sure you emptied that whole teapot already.”

“Huh… We have. Perhaps I should’ve grabbed us snacks as well…”

Snacks are more than likely not the solution to Claude’s problem, but maybe less tea would’ve been consumed in the first place. This is his chance to say ‘next time,’ and bolt—

“Will you stay put if I went to the dining hall?”

Dammit. It felt like a crime to say no. He really should be appreciating all the time being spent with him, but matters were becoming urgent, and he was starting to hunch over the table slightly. 

“I expect you not to touch anything. Preferably, don’t even move. I won’t tolerate any of your schemes in my room, got it?” 

The tone of their voice was enough to let the Riegan know that those words weren’t as harsh as they came off. Since Byleth seems so incapable of smiling much, that was the equivalent of letting him know. Yet, that  _ did  _ put a wrench in his plans of, you know, running. A sharp kick from his aching bladder caused his next words to be hissed out more than spoken, “Got it, Teach. Whatever you say.” They had already gotten up from the table by the time he could even make a comment. There really was no backing out of this, huh? The one time Byleth was feeling chatty had to be the time he neglected his bladder earlier in the day, and then basically had a whole pot of tea shoved down his throat. Although, with them gone, he does have the opportunity to think this through more. 

The dorm door closed behind them, with another reminder not to move, and he was left to his own devices. It was strategy time. Firstly, would he be able to get out of this room without Byleth noticing. If Byleth was heading to the dining hall, and the communal bathrooms were beyond that, he’d have to be extra sneaky to avoid being spotted. It would’ve been easiest to just state he had to go to the restroom, but that’d involve losing a chunk of dignity! He was making this unnecessarily difficult for only himself. What if he was caught before he even made it to the restroom, then had to explain himself all while bursting to piss? There’s no guarantee he could even make it all that way in this state. There’s a lot that could go wrong there. Is this the downside of being such a strategist? Nothing in life can be simple? Dwelling on these things was fine and dandy when there wasn’t a larger issue at hand. It was almost like there was a moment of relief when he was briefly distracted by his own thoughts, but it seems his bladder was tired of thinking about finally getting to go. There was a sudden rush through his body, and if he didn’t catch himself, he absolutely would’ve leaked. Every muscle was clenched tight, and it was becoming increasingly hotter in the room. His whole body was damp. Hands clutched tightly at the sides of the table, slumping over it. With no one in here, he could do what he wanted. He let out a quiet whine as he rubbed his thighs together. The best ending would being able to get out of here to go to the bathroom, but the worst ending would be wetting himself like a child, in the professor’s room nonetheless. An awful, humiliating outcome. If he had no shame, he could sneak out and use the bushes that were right next to the dorms, but that was far too public, and easily spottable. The last thing he needed was a teacher catching him or a student seeing the future leader of the Alliance, pissing in a bush like a degenerate. He was running out of options, and time, it seems. Even the tiniest movements were becoming too much for his sensitive bladder. He had to stop jostling his legs because it was only making it harder to focus on keeping everything at bay. It was proving difficult to try and balance thinking of how to handle this and also trying not to relax his body too much. There was no helping it anymore, with the swelling becoming so intense, it was urgent that his hands stuff themselves between his thighs. It was so easy to think ‘oh, let me go to the bathroom,’ but that wasn’t an option right now. Hunching forward wasn’t doing him any favors either, so it was best he straighten up, his head lolling backwards as he let out a loud groan. It felt indecent and a bit dirty to have his hands so desperately grasping at his dick while in the professor’s room, but he couldn’t help it. It felt like his muscles no longer wanted to do the work, and that he had to take over manually. Even though he concluded that shaking his leg was non-conducive to his situation, it was bouncing on it’s own. Under his breath was a string of curses, and without even foreseeing it coming, suddenly there was a hot dampness beneath his hands. It was difficult to decipher at first, since his hands were so sweaty, they were practically drenched as is, but after a moment of brief clarity, he realized what was happening. Body moving strictly on it’s own out of pure panic and newfound adrenaline, he shot up from his chair. In retrospect, he knew sudden movement wasn’t going to help— all the weight in his bladder now shifting. The leak only lasted a moment, but it was enough to soak through his pants due to the fabric being pressed flush against him. 

“Shit—” 

He didn’t even feel himself let go. It just happened, and next thing he knew, his hands were wet. He can’t do this. He can’t wet himself like a child inside of his professor’s room. It’s not right. He can’t be wetting himself at all. There’s too much evidence that way. Looking down to assess the damage, it seems the black uniform and the minimum amount of leakage helped everything look spotless. Screw getting caught pissing outside like a degenerate, he’ll take that punishment over pissing himself here. Attempting to push the chair back with the back of his legs and step out from the table only made the urgency more real. All that liquid is letting gravity take it straight down. His knees bent, hands stuffing harder within his lap as another loud groan slipped out. It was his body protesting the idea of walking. Surely enough, a single step would cause enough of a ripple to bust the dam. What he truly wanted was to squat fully and just let go, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. With one hand taking a firm hold of the table, he tried to guide wobbly legs forward. If this was going to be the inevitable, at least let it happen outside. He didn’t want to pay attention to how wet his underwear were, but he had a feeling more kept dribbling out without him even knowing. One step forward was truly all it took. Dread washed over him, almost like how the hot flood of urine washed over his hands. There was no time to think, there had to be action. Without giving it a second thought, a hand fumbled its way to find the empty teapot, taking the lid off of it. What his instincts said was to pull his dick out right away to prevent himself from ruining his pants, but he can’t risk getting anything on the floor, and it looks like his bladder has no intentions of stopping. With a shaky inhale, he brought the pot in front of him, tilting it forward. This was the only solution he had. His other hand did its best to quickly remove his dick from it’s confinements, and as soon as it was freed, his stream messily shot slightly above it’s target, getting his hand wet and washing over the teapot before dripping to the floor. It wasn’t even a dribble anymore, it was the entire flood, wild and desperate.

“Goddammit…”

As he grunted, he aimed himself a bit lower, finally hitting where he needs to. With the worst of the chaos over, the realization of what was happening hit him. Not only did he soak a good portion of his pants, he’s pissing in a  _ teapot inside the professor’s room.  _ He could try and convince himself that this really was the only option at hand, but right now his whole body was focused on relief. The harsh stream splattered noisily against the bottom of the porcelain, the sound echoing. It was embarrassing. All of it was painfully embarrassing and he can feel all the way up to his ears start to burn. Eyes squeezed shut as he bit down on his bottom lip— mostly to prevent any further whines or possible moans. Release, as terrible of a situation, was so good nonetheless. Maybe they’d help block out the awful noise of his rampant stream. It didn’t take long for the bottom to fill, helping muffle the noise in some sense. The sound was more akin to what an actual toilet would sound like. But, this is not a toilet. It’s a fucking teapot. And it seemed like biting on his lip helped none, because involuntarily, a far too erotic moan was let out. God, he needs to keep quiet. What if someone hears from outside the room? The damp hand that was holding his dick steady, grossly, was used to clamp over his mouth. To make sure the distance wasn’t too far or his dick misfired again, he brought the teapot directly over it, the cold porcelain pressing against his crotch. He shivered at the sensation, his legs nearly giving out underneath him. This was the best solution for him, he tells himself again. His bladder nowhere near empty, he began to notice that the level of the teapot was raising quicker than he thought. Soon, the hot liquid was grazing the tip of his dick. Which was… unpleasant, but it did completely silence the sound, and let him keep relieving himself in peace. Something tells him it’s not healthy to submerge any open part of your body in urine, but that’s not an issue to worry about right now. That’s a tomorrow problem. While it was unpleasant, it was equally as… interesting of a feeling. There was a sudden hot liquid surrounding his sensitive cock, and he’s back to letting out a soft groan of approval. Even after moments passed, his body was still emptying itself. The teapot was beginning to grow heavy in his hand, and he nearly forgot that at some point, it  _ will  _ reach its limit. Both hands making sure the teapot didn’t slip out from him, he finally peeked down at continuous wreckage. He didn’t even know he could hold this much piss inside him. 

What was forgotten, and not accounted for, was Byleth returning from the hall. He had completely forgotten all about that. It became something on the back burner as he worried more about not pissing on the floor. He didn’t even know what he was going to do with this teapot once he was done. Knowing the end was barley near, and the container slowly reaching its capacity, it was something to consider— but. All of that went out of the window as soon as the door handle jiggled. Fear couldn’t even express what came over him in that moment. It was absolute  _ horror. Dread.  _ In a pure frenzy, he couldn’t figure out if he should try to stop himself from pissing, take his dick away from the teapot, or hide his shame. He certainly couldn’t do all three at once. Instead, the boy just froze in place. I suppose you could say that a ‘deer caught in headlights’ s exactly what he is! Because as soon as that door opened, Byleth was greeted to quite a display in front of them. There was their student, a future leader, standing with a teapot to his crotch, and judging by the glistening of his pants, and the small puddle on the floor, they could only assume the worst was happening. They’ve actually never seen Claude this petrified before. And the worst part of it all was; he still couldn’t stop. No matter how hard he tried to cease the flow, his muscles weren’t strong enough anymore. Also perhaps shock would’ve made him piss himself all over again. Without realizing, the pot began to tip within his hands, his warm piss now pouring onto the floor from the stout. 

“Fuck—” 

There was nowhere to go from here. For the first time in a long time, he almost felt like crying. All in front of the professor. On top of pissing in their room, he didn’t need them to see his whole dick, so he was hesitant to move the teapot away. If he were to pull the teapot away, he still wouldn’t be able to stop himself from emptying, but if he keeps it there, it’s just going to keep overflowing. With his eyes darting back up to Byleth, who is staring in pure disbelief, he could truly do nothing but continue to piss inside this overflowing teapot that they both just drank out of. 

“I… I can explain?” No he couldn’t. There was no explanation. And luck did not seem to be on his side, because shaky hands soon dropped the entire porcelain pot, slippery from the piss that was dripping down it. Congratulations, your entire teapot full of piss just shattered against the floor, spilling it everywhere. But, it doesn’t stop there! Your dick is now out, still pissing, all in front of your teacher! Now he is stood there, legs spread apart, hands still hovering where they once were, with his cock still spouting a less intense stream. Was it possible to die from shame alone? Everything that could have gone wrong has done so, and he still doesn’t know how to fix the issue of still having to piss. He couldn’t keep his dick out any longer, he can tell Byleth is staring, so without worrying about getting any more piss on his pants, he stuffed himself back into them. Which was... even more of a disgusting feeling. Black fabric was beginning to cling to his thighs and legs as it trickled down and soaked through. During all of this, the other has not opened their mouth once. Well, besides to let it hang agape. Humiliation and embarrassment was so crippling that tears were forming in the corners of his eyes unwillingly. There was no solution to this. There was no strategy. All he could think to do was to leap over the mess he made, push past the professor, and run right out the open door. As he sprinted towards the inside of the monastery, he croaked out, “Thanks for the tea, Teach! Sorry about the mess!” The trail of piss that he left behind would be the only evidence to the outside world that he had been there. He fears the future thrashing he will receive for all of this, but for now, he needed to get to his own dorm and maybe scream for a little. 

All while Byleth stares at their room, covered in broken porcelain and their student's urine. Dazed, confused, and oddly turned on.

**Author's Note:**

> written for the lovely dionysiaca on twitter!! the world can always use more piss, and i am here to supply it and sully every single fandom!  
> hope you enjoyed! i'm more than happy to spread the joy. find me on twitter @omosamapudding !!


End file.
